


The Principles of Protection

by NightValeian



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale to the Rescue (Good Omens), Concerned Aziraphale (Good Omens), Concerned Crowley (Good Omens), First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Good Omens Holiday Swap 2019, Hurt Crowley (Good Omens), Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, One Obscure Doctor Who Reference, Post-Canon, Protective Aziraphale (Good Omens), Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Sharing a Bed, The Principality and Aziraphale are Separate Entities (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21991174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NightValeian/pseuds/NightValeian
Summary: Aziraphale reveals what it really means to be a Principality.Crowley ends up witnessing it firsthand.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 27
Kudos: 351
Collections: Good Omens Holiday Swap 2019





	The Principles of Protection

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheTimeMachineJellyfish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimeMachineJellyfish/gifts).



> Finished at last! 
> 
> This is the piece I wrote for the Good Omens Holiday Swap for [this lovely person!](TheTimeMachineJellyfish.tumblr.com)
> 
> They gave me a handful of ideas, but one that stuck out to me the most was the idea of a rescue and...well, this is what came of it. I really hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Thank you to both of my lovely beta readers who helped make this fic possible.

After six-thousand years, Crowley had honestly come to believe that had known everything there was to know about Aziraphale. They’d been through nearly everything together, stopped the damned _apocalypse_ together; there was nothing that the two hadn’t shared with one another. 

The pair had been drinking in the familiar territory of the back room in the bookshop, Crowley perched on the loveseat as he retold the excursion of his latest temptation while desperately trying to wring the last drop from their second shared bottle of Château Lafite. It had been an overall quiet night, each exchanging wilder and wilder tales of past blessings and temptations, rosy cheeks growing across each of their faces with each glass of wine and each minute of genuine companionship. Crowley finished his rousing tale of a temptation gone awry involving a cinematic reproduction of a famous Broadway show as Aziraphale feigned disapproval before breaking into laughter.

As the night went on, Aziraphale eventually moved to share the other side of the loveseat and they fell into a comfortable silence, sipping steadily on another bottle as they simply enjoyed the presence of one another. Aziraphale looked thoughtful, alcohol finally coming to affect his corporation into an agreeable enough state to bring up Heaven-related topics. 

"You know, I'm not _really_ a Principality."

Crowley blinked, glass frozen midway to his lips, unsure if he had just misheard or if Aziraphale had beyond surpassed him in the race to incredible intoxication. 

"What?"

"I mean, I _am_ technically, but I'm _not_."

"But you're ‘ _Principality_ Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate,’" he waved his hands around wildly. "Why waste breath on long titles like that if it's not true?" 

"Well, it's not necessarily _untrue,_ per se, I suppose it's more accurate to call myself more of a...host? Yes, a host to the _essence_ of the Principality." Aziraphale said thoughtfully as he refilled his glass. "When needed, I am but a vessel, allowing it to cleanse the world of extreme danger." 

"You're acting awfully nonchalant about being a vessel of divine wrath," Crowley observed, eyes narrowing behind his sunglasses. "Isn’t it itself dangerous?"

"I'm sure it's very dangerous for whatever it turns its powers unto–"

"Not _that_. I meant to _you._ Isn't that dangerous _for_ _you?"_

"Oh." Aziraphale blinked. "I...well, I'm afraid I'm actually not sure. In all of my time on Earth, I've never had a reason to...ah...release it."

"Never? Not one, _single,_ reason?" Crowley asked, now rather annoyed, thinking of several times that the world could probably have done with a little direct Divine assistance. Regardless, he couldn't keep his natural curiosity from taking over, leaning forward with a growing smirk. "Can I see it?"

"Can you _see_ –Crowley, I just told you that I'm a vessel of unfathomable holy wrath and you want to _see_ it?" Aziraphale sputtered, shaking his head. "Absolutely not."

"Well, why not?" 

"Its only purpose is to _destroy evil_ , you idiot! If it saw you, it wouldn't see the you _I_ know, it would just see a–a demon!" Aziraphale ranted. "I won't have you being destroyed just because you need to feed your limitless curiosity."

Crowley rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't destroy me in a million years."

" _I_ wouldn't, no. But the Principality isn't _me,"_ the angel stressed. "It knows only its created purpose, Crowley–a blank slate of divinity and righteousness, I–I have no influence on what it would decide to do if it set its sights on you." Aziraphale's voice had trickled down to a whisper, the idea of losing Crowley–to his own hands even–overwhelming him.

"Oh, come off it, angel–"

The angel looked at him sharply, all traces of his previously drunk and aloof persona having disappeared. " _No_ , Crowley. It's bad enough that I've allowed myself to endanger you for so long, let you get so _close_ to me _._ " 

Crowley bristled, if Aziraphale wanted to get serious, they would get serious. He snapped his fingers, remaining alcohol leaving his system as he returned his frustration to the angel. "What could you _possibly_ mean by that, then?" 

"It _means_ that the last six thousand years have been _torture_ for me, constantly pushing you away again and again in desperation that I might keep you safe from _myself._ " Aziraphale said, annoyed. “If I allowed you– _us_ to get too close, Heaven's wrath would've only been a fraction of the risk I'd have put you in, Crowley." He looked softly at the demon before reaching for his glasses, an unspoken request answered with a slight nod. As the glasses were carefully removed, the angel never broke his gaze, eyes overflowing with emotion as he continued. "The Principality is dangerous, Crowley and I…I couldn't bear to think what might happen to you if it were ever unleashed." 

“Angel...?” 

“Do you even _understand_ how close I’ve wanted you to be? How _much_ I've wanted– _longed_ for this?” 

They stared at one another for a long time; Aziraphale’s eyes wide with fear and Crowley’s wide with disbelief. This was the unspoken line, the delicate dance they’d been practicing for over six thousand years–left foot forward, arms reaching, the ghost of lips, never quite touching–a clear desire from each always stalled by the ever-present fear of _what if?_

“No, actually.” Crowley leaned towards Aziraphale in the loveseat, slowly raising an eyebrow. “Why don’t you tell me all about how _close_ you’ve wanted me?”

“No, _no._ I-I misspoke.” The angel replied quickly, waving his hand in dismissal. “Crowley, please listen to me, it’s too _dangerous.”_

“Why don’t we test it then? See how close we really can get?” Crowley asked, shifting to straddle the angel carefully, hand tentatively reaching to cup his jaw as his thumb brushed ever so gently across the full cupid's bow of his lips.

Aziraphale couldn't help but lean into the touch minutely, face flushed a fierce red to match his once drunken state.

"Wha-what on Earth are you talking about?" 

Crowley leaned in slowly, steadily closing the distance between them until Aziraphale lifted his hands to press them against Crowley's chest, eyes wide and fearful. 

" _Don't…_ "

"You wanted to be closer." Crowley murmured, eyes half-lidded as he brushed their noses together gently. Aziraphale breathed in slowly, hands frozen against the demon's chest, the rapid-fire beat of his heart impossible to ignore. "So now we're closer."

"It doesn't matter what I want. It's not _safe_ for you. The Principality–"

"Wouldn't hurt me. You'd never let anything hurt me, angel." Crowley said confidently, hand moving up to Aziraphale's cheek, thumb brushing at the growing wetness in his eyes. "I'm not afraid." 

"I am." Aziraphale whispered. "I'm terrified." His fingers curled into the lapels of his jacket, grasping at the demon as if he were the only thing grounding him from the terrifying reality of his divine Purpose. "I-If anything happened to you because of _me,_ I _couldn't..._ wo-would _never_ be able to forgive myself."

"Shh…I trust you. I always have."

Aziraphale froze, the weight of those words washing over him. Thinking over the last six millenia, he couldn't deny their truth–from their first interaction, Crowley trusting him to protect him from the rain, Crowley always proving his friendship, his admiration, daresay even his _love_ for the angel, they were all just ways of showing his vulnerability, his _trust_ for the one being in which he should harbor none. 

"You have far too much faith in me, my dear…"

"I could never place my faith in anyone else." Crowley said firmly and Aziraphale laughed shakily, breathless as he stared up at the demon's face. "Now how about you place a little faith in me?" 

With that, Aziraphale released his hold on his jacket, sliding his arms down to his waist as Crowley finally closed the distance between them, lips pressing together gently as tears that had been building steadily finally spilled.

The kiss was chaste but tender, lasting for just a moment. When Crowley withdrew, the smile slipped from his face as he took in Aziraphale's tears, still slipping from tightly closed eyes. 

"Angel…?" He lifted his other hand, cupping his face as he wiped away his tears with his thumbs. "Hey, it's alright. Open your eyes, angel." 

Aziraphale opened his eyes slowly, hands reaching up to grasp at Crowley's wrists, disbelief painting his features. "You're still here…" 

"I'm still here." Crowley reassured him, lips curling into a small smile. "I told you. You wouldn't let anything happen to me."

Aziraphale's lip trembled, hands shifting their hold from Crowley's wrists to instead cradle his head, fingers curling into thick strands of red. 

" _Oh_ , you're still here." The angel whispered, easing Crowley's head back down to press their foreheads together. Damp blue eyes stared up at him in wonder, fingertips gently brushing against his scalp.

"I'm here." Crowley whispered, brushing their lips together again as the tension seeped from Aziraphale's shoulders, his body sinking into the couch beneath them. "I'm right here."

They stayed like that, exchanging soft kisses and quiet reassurances for the rest of the evening, the looming shadow of the Principality long forgotten.

* * *

It had been a little naïve for Aziraphale and Crowley to assume that Heaven and Hell would truly leave them alone following Armageddon't.

Naïve to assume that their former superiors wouldn’t try to confront them again to take matters into their own hands.

Downright foolish for Crowley to have let his guard down as he took a more isolated route to the bookshop that afternoon, relaxing at the thought of his own cleverness for avoiding any potential danger. 

And yet.

“Come on, guyssss, can’t we talk this over?” 

Crowley stumbled along the dirt path as he tried to regain his footing, the demons at either side of him dragging him along roughly. His hands were bound behind his back, sigils glowing as they restrained both his ethereal and corporeal form. He hadn’t been quick enough to notice the ambush and miracle himself out of this mess to safety. He'd already taken a few good hits to the head and face before completely giving in, snake-like features dominating his form in his panic. 

“You’ve talked plenty, Crowley." the demon sneered. "Head Office wants to do the talking now.” 

“H-Head Office?" Crowley gulped, eyes widening in fear. "You mean–”

“Our Dark Lord Satan, yes. He’s not been too _pleased_ with you as of late, Crowley.”

The demons herded him further along the path, putting more and more distance between them and the bookshop–his own personal heaven, a haven of warmth and safety. He may not lie his head there, but he left his heart there centuries ago–and now he was being ripped away from the only thing that made the damned thing beat in the first place. The narrow path eventually opened up into a clearing, well away from prying eyes, to a glowing red portal situated by an apple tree.

“Ah...What’s this to then?”

“A one way ticket to Hell. No return trip.”

_Fuck...._ **_Fuck._ ** _Aziraphale, I’m so sorry, I’m not going to make it home after all._

The demon behind him shoved him towards the portal, causing Crowley to stumble before managing to straighten himself up and grudgingly shuffle forward. This was it. No more stalling, no more excuses; whatever, _who_ ever was waiting for him on the other side of this portal would be the last he would likely see–there was no chance of survival this time.

_I don’t want to go._

He blinked rapidly behind cracked sunglasses, swallowing the lump stuck in his throat. 

_Aziraphale…_

Before he could manage to take that final step to put him through the portal, something struck the Earth behind him, causing the ground to shake and tremble under his feet. Legs already weak from fear, Crowley couldn't help but fall to his knees as he felt the force of raw _Divinity_ wash over his entire being. Shakily, Crowley turned to look over his shoulder, eyes widening at the sight he saw before him. 

"A-Angel?"

At first glance, one might consider the figure to be Aziraphale, with his signature curls and perfectly out of date clothing– but upon closer inspection, Crowley saw that this entity was not so. A mockery of the once soft and loving angel he had come to befriend over thousands of years stood before him, his body seeming as but a vessel for whatever had taken over. 

The figure appeared to have been carved from marble, unsettlingly still skin an almost sickly white. The being's face was slack with emotion, yet the ethereal glow of its eyes gave an immeasurable impression of fury. Six massive wings stood large and proud from its back, spread purposefully to shield Crowley from the demons that had bound him. The bindings on Crowley’s wrists disintegrated at the appearance of the being, allowing him to cover his eyes from the burning holiness before him.

This wasn’t _Aziraphale_. 

This was the **Principality**. 

“What the Hell is this then?” One of the demons demanded.

“ _Idiot_ , that’s the angel the boss warned us about.” Another replied. “And that’s why we have _these.”_

There was sharp whine of metal followed by a dull roar, then a faint crackling. As Crowley peeked through his hands, around the giant wings of the Principality, he blanched at the sight of each of the demons wielding swords forged of Hellfire. 

The Principality seemed to stand impossibly taller as the opposing demons brandished their swords. Even as they held no weapon of their own, the entity was braced for the oncoming fight, much to Crowley's horror.

“Azirapha–ang– _please_ , _no._ I'm not sure if you can even hear me, if you can even _see_ me but this is too dangerous for you alone, even as a Principality.” Crowley said quietly, desperately. “That is _Hellfire._ It will destroy you completely."

The echo of Aziraphale's words haunted him, now realizing the fear the angel had felt before his little heist. The Principality may not care for eternal destruction, but the thought of losing his angel forever ran like ice through Crowley's veins, a wave of nausea roiling deep in his stomach. He _couldn't_ do this again. He picked himself up, tentatively reaching toward the being with a shaking hand. 

"Please...Don't do this. We can run this time, we can just go off into the stars like we planned _,_ angel, _please._ " 

The Principality did not so much as move from his stance, no acknowledgment that Crowley had even spoken. 

A choked sob. "I can't lose you again. Please."

“Get on with it you lot, the boss is expecting us. Let’s hurry up and get this over with.” At that, one of the demons charged forward, sword raised as they made a beeline for the Principality. Clearly zoned in for a quick killing blow, they swung their blade full force for the angel's throat.

_"Aziraphale!"_

Crowley’s anguished scream echoed throughout the clearing as the blade made contact, narrowly missing the intended target as it instead made contact with the smooth marble cheek, the Principality having moved their head just enough to avoid decapitation. Crowley had expected immediate death, for the angel to simply cease to _be_ in front of his very eyes and so let out a wail of grief, sinking to his knees all over again.

Beyond the shift of their head, the Principality remained motionless, no flinching nor expressions of pain even as the sword broke through the marble-like skin, cracking under the force of the blow. Golden blood spilled furiously over once colorless cheeks, gleaming streaks shining in the sun like gruesome tears. Crowley couldn’t help but stare up at them in disbelief and wonder, unsure of how they'd managed to survive. 

The demon who dared to raise their sword to the Principality took a hesitant step back, eyes widening at their folly and the realization that they had made a mistake. 

"W-What the _Heaven–"_

The thought was never finished; the Principality's eyebrow twitched, almost in _annoyance_ , and suddenly the demon was enveloped in holy light, screaming in agony as they were reduced to nothing but ash. 

The remaining demons looked to one another, visibly uneasy in the presence of such holy wrath. 

"W-What do we do now?"

"We have our orders. We can't go back empty handed." Both of the demons barely managed to raise their blades, intent on charging back into the fight before they met identical fates to the first, screams reverberating through the empty clearing until an eerie silence took over.

Finally, the Principality's wings lowered, folding neatly against their back and freeing Crowley of their protection. The demon stepped gingerly around them, each step placed carefully as to not be seen as a threat. He stared with wide eyes where the demons once were, now just piles of ash scattered across the ground, then turned back towards the angel. 

"Aziraphale?" 

The figure stood there, ever-statuesque as they stared blankly towards its latest conquest. Gold sluggishly bled from the wound upon their face, the faint sizzle of Hellfire still present along its edges as it fought against the divinity in which it invaded. Crowley made his way back towards them, concern for his angel washing over the shock of the last hour. 

This wasn't Aziraphale, he _knew_ it wasn't, but he would be blessed if he was going to let this being destroy his body. He was dealing with the Principality now, which meant playing by Heaven's rules in order to make it out of this intact.

"Principality?"

The being didn't respond, yet _something_ in the air shifted; something powerful and unseen turned its sights on him, causing Crowley to hold his hands up in surrender to show he meant no harm.

"It's just me. It's just Crowley. _Anthony_ , remember?" He said gently, hands remaining up as he continued his approach. Aziraphale had explained to him that the Principality was simply a mindset, triggered during periods of extreme danger, so if Crowley wanted to bring his angel back, he'd have to convince them that they had succeeded in eliminating the threat. "Angel? You in there?" 

Still no response, yet the tension continued to build the closer he got. One wrong move and Crowley was _sure_ he would be destroyed, despite the protection he had been gifted just moments earlier.

"You did it, angel. You got rid of them. We're safe now– _I'm_ safe now." Crowley reached out with a trembling hand, fingertips just grazing the sleeve of their coat as he braced for impact. "You can stop now, you did so _good._ It's alright, you can let go, I've got you." 

Nothing happened.

The Principality stayed rigid and unmoving, still prepared for the slightest shift in safety, but he could feel the powerful aura slowly dissipating as they recognized Crowley was not a threat. Their eyes, still burning bright with holy power, seemed to dim slightly as Crowley continued to speak. 

"Hey, _hey,_ sweetheart…Everything is alright now, I promise." Crowley continued on, taking another step forward, hands moving to cup their face. The marble-like skin was cool and smooth under his palms, and he brushed his thumb gently over the crack splintering across their face. The divine blood staining their cheek burned his hands, skin sizzling immediately upon contact, but he forced himself to ignore the pain. This wasn’t about him anymore. "You got hurt protecting me, angel. Did you know that? Can you even feel it? Come on, love, _look_ at me."

With gentle hands, Crowley coaxed the Principality to lift his head just slightly to meet his eyes. While Crowley searched desperately into the bright cosmic void, he knew that the Principality likely didn't see him, though frozen lips seemed to pull downwards just a fraction. 

"You did your job. You kept the world safe, kept _me_ safe _._ I'm here, angel, and it's because of you." Crowley murmured soothingly, keeping both his touch and tone gentle. "Come back to me, angel, come on."

The Principality stared through Crowley, seeming to not have heard the demon at all before finally closing their glowing eyes. The hard, cold skin under his hands slowly softened, warmth spreading through the angel's body and becoming familiar once again. The wound that had been gleaming against porcelain skin slowly regressed to a shallow cut and white, lifeless curls shifted to the color of sun-glossed wheat, glittering bright like a halo. 

Aziraphale’s body slumped forward and Crowley was quick to catch him, hands shooting to grab his shoulders and keep him from crumpling to the ground.

“Aziraphale?” He asked softly, lips pressing against the top of the angel’s head. “Can you hear me?"

"Crowley…?"

Crowley gave a wet sigh as relief washed over him at the sound of Aziraphale's voice, the events of the afternoon suddenly catching up to him. He leaned in to press firm kisses to the angel's forehead, closing his eyes tightly as tears streamed down his face.

"Ah, thank _Somebody…"_

"Crowley, what's happened? Where...Where are we?" Clearly disoriented, Aziraphale looked around the clearing, taking in the piles of ash and sharp sharp smell of Hellfire still lingering in the air before facing the shaking demon again, confusion immediately shifting to concern. "Crowley, what's wrong? Are you alright?"

When Crowley finally withdrew to look at his angel, the sight of familiar blue eyes just caused tears to fall harder, the relief of it all overwhelming him. He forced himself to calm down, lest he worry the angel further as he took a deep, clearing breath.

"Hi, angel."

"Crowley, _what_ is going on? Are you hurt? 

"I'm fine, angel, I promise. The question is, how are _you_?"

"I'm...fine. Bit sore on the face, but that doesn't matter. Crowley, _how_ did we get here? The last thing I remember is that I was at home and…" Aziraphale trailed off, finally seeming to focus past the demon's tears to take him all in, eyes widening in realization. "D-Darling, you're _bleeding_!"

Aziraphale reached up to touch Crowley's forehead, eyes wide with worry as Crowley winced at the miracle closing the wound and clearing off the remaining blood. 

"I'm alright, angel. Really." Aziraphale's hands moved down his shoulders, patting at his arms, probing for any further injury and making increasingly distressed noises at each new one he came across. "Just some demons trying to drag me back to Hell. It's nothing."

"I should say _not,_ this is hardly _nothing_. Honestly, Crowley, they really injured you." Aziraphale murmured, hands still wandering until they came to a stop at the demon's wrists. Before his fingers could brush the freshly singed palms of his hands, Crowley quickly withdrew them with a hiss. "Oh! I'm so sorry, my dear. Are your hands–"

"They're _fine_ , Aziraphale. Let it go." 

Aziraphale straightened his shoulders, reaching out to take Crowley's wrist again and gently encircling it with his fingers. "Let me see, Crowley, please, just let me help you."

Crowley gave in after a few gentle tugs, reluctantly allowing the angel look upon the holy damage done to his hands. It was grueling to watch his face during those moments, seeing the pieces slowly click together; the memory gap, the burns, the dull odor of sulphur overpowered by something far more divine. "Angel, it's _not–"_

Aziraphale dropped Crowley's wrist like it'd burned him, taking a few shaky steps back, expression horrified. "D-Did I…?"

" _No._ No, sweetheart, of course not." Crowley soothed, closing the distance where Aziraphale had stepped back. "You kept me _safe_ . The _Principality_ kept me safe. Those demons were going to take me back to Hell and you showed up before they ever even got the chance."

"B-But your hands…that's _holy_ damage."

"That was my own fault. You seemed to be stuck in there, and I wanted to bring you back I thought maybe...maybe you'd respond more to touch." Crowley smiled at him, trying to be reassuring, but Aziraphale wasn’t buying it. His lip started trembling, tears collecting on his lashes as he looked at the demon. “Oh, angel, no...everything is fine. We’re _okay_ , sweetheart, I promise. You made sure of that.”

It was almost jarring, the differences between the Principality and Aziraphale. Mere minutes earlier, the Principality had wiped out a handful of demons without batting an eyelash, yet Aziraphale–ever the pacifist–stood before him in tears due to unintentional harm. The demon reached out to him in an attempt to comfort, but Aziraphale waved him off, sniffling. 

“I-I should get you home. You’ve been through such an ordeal.” Aziraphale choked out, scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his palms before reaching out to take Crowley’s hands in his own. 

Crowley wanted to argue that they’d both been through an ordeal: Aziraphale looked all but dead on his feet, but he knew the angel would feign that he was fine. If Crowley was really being honest with himself, he was sure he didn’t look much better himself. 

“Ready, my dear?” 

“Yeah...Take me home.” 

* * *

“Will...will you tell me about it? How it was?” 

“Hm…?” 

“With...my _other_ half.” 

Crowley slowly opened his eyes, blinking up at Aziraphale from where his head was laying in his lap. When they had finally returned home earlier that evening, Aziraphale had ushered Crowley into the bath, wasting no time in getting him cleaned up and healing any remaining injuries he had initially missed. Afterwards, the demon found himself tucked safely into their bed, head pillowed in Aziraphale’s lap as the angel slowly played with his hair. 

“I already told you, angel, they didn’t hurt me.” 

“I _know,_ I know. I just...want to know _more,_ to hear about it _all_. What were they like?” 

“They were…very cold.” Crowley said thoughtfully. “Not much of an expressive one, didn’t say anything at all. _Incredibly_ strong, vaporized those demons just by looking at them. It was kind of hot, really.”

“Oh, _honestly_ , Crowley.” 

“Well, it _was!”_

Aziraphale hummed, nose wrinkling in annoyance, fingers still begrudgingly running through Crowley’s hair. 

_Maybe now is not the right time to make jokes, Aziraphale isn't in the right state of mind for jokes._

“Continuing on.”

“ _Anyway_ . They sent those demons to...wherever we go after total annihilation, then just stood there, wouldn’t even _look_ at me. Just...frozen? I think...I think they were afraid there was going to be _more_ , that they needed to stay poised for another attack.” He continued, frowning. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to come back if the Principality stayed on edge, so I tried to talk to them, talk to _you_ to let them know that it was over, that they could let go.” 

“ _Talked_ to them? And they didn’t...raise a hand to you?” 

“Not once.”

The angel furrowed his brow as he took the information in. "It's...strange." He frowned, hands stilling in Crowley's hair,overcome with his thoughts. "I'd never really thought of the Principality as...a person before."

"I believe you called them a 'State of Being'." 

"Well, that's what _I'd_ been told. I've never met them–not that I ever technically could–but how could I have known?" Aziraphale huffed, shaking his head. "It's just...well I suppose it's odd is all. To think there's someone, some _thing_ else who loves you as much as I do."

"I don't really think its _love_ , per se, at least not theirs. I think they only really care about me because of _you_." Crowley pointed out, hand searching for Aziraphale's to link the two together, satisfied when he found it. "Still not sure how you knew I was in danger in the first place, though."

"I _felt_ it." Aziraphale replied softly. "It was as if you were crying out for me and I was just consumed with the anguish I felt in your call. And then…then..."

"Hey." Crowley said softly, squeezing Aziraphale's hand as the angel trailed off, that distant, confused look returning to his face. " _Hey_ , don't go where I can't follow, angel." 

A deep breath. "Tolkien. I'm here." Aziraphale hummed, blinking away the daze as he gave a shake of his head. "My apologies. Trying to remember any time with the Principality is very...ah...disorienting. Like sifting through fuzz in my mind." 

"I've already told you what happened." Crowley said firmly, bringing his hand to his mouth to press lips to knuckles. "You and that Principality saved me today. That's all that matters."

Aziraphale was silent for some time, the hand in Crowley's hair still slowly combing through each strand. "Well, at this point all I can hope for is that Hell will take this as a warning to never dare to come for you again." 

"If they know what's good for them, yeah." Crowley let out a chuckle and the angel couldn't help but smile, a bright and warm expression on his face. Yet, the demon could still see a hint of fatigue hiding behind the glow of the smile and shifted slowly from his lap to settle alongside him in bed. "Here. Lie down for me, angel."

"Darling, you know that I don't–"

"Don't give me that. You've been half asleep since before we even made it home." Crowley said disapprovingly. Aziraphale huffed, mumbling something unsavory under his breath before shuffling down to lay beside him. "Relax, angel. The danger has passed." 

"Given the circumstances, I feel as if _I_ should be the one doing all the hovering." Aziraphale said with a slow roll of his eyes. He couldn't fool Crowley, though, as he could see the way his eyes stayed closed a bit longer each time he blinked, how he nestled into the plushness of the pillow under his head. The angel fumbled about the comforter, searching hands finding the fabric of the demon's sleep shirt and tangling his fingers into it to ground himself, reassuring himself that Crowley was still there with him. "They nearly managed to drag you off to be _destroyed_ today. They almost...Oh, _Crowley_ , I almost wasn't–they almost…” 

“Don’t.” Crowley hushed. “Don’t let yourself think about it.” 

“How can I _not?_ They almost stole you away, I might have lost you _forever_ a-and–”

"And _you_ hit such an extreme level of distress in just a matter of moments that you unleashed a physical entity of Divine Wrath to protect me." Crowley reminded him, sliding a hand over Aziraphale's hip to wind his arm around him. With a small tug, he had the angel curled up alongside him, head tucked under his chin and blonde curls tickling his face. "Relationships are a two-way street, angel. You've been hovering all night, let me take over for a bit, yeah?" 

Aziraphale hummed softly, and while he wasn't facing the demon, Crowley knew his eyes were already closed, drifting off as he allowed himself to finally relax. 

It was still so unbelievable to him that his soft, loving angel housed a being of unfathomable holiness, but he couldn't bring himself to complain. 

Nothing Heaven nor Hell could ever throw at them would be able to keep them apart, the strength of their bond surpassing all barriers. 

**Author's Note:**

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